Extinction

Ryld stood silently for several long moments, then lifted his greatsword and shoved it into the sheath on his back.

"I choose you," he said, staring at Halisstra. "If you will have me."

Before Halisstra could answer, Uluyara and Feliane stepped out of the forest. Feliane was smiling at Halisstra, a look of rapturous joy on her face, but Uluyara kept a keen eye on Ryld, as if watching to make sure he wasn't going to draw his sword.

"If Eilistraee will have you, then you are welcome among us," Uluyara told him. "If not, then you will have to leave." A wry smile played about her lips. "Permanently, this time."

Ryld nodded and said, "Understood."

Uluyara turned to Halisstra.

"Come, priestess," she said. "There is much, yet, that you must learn. And much that you must do. This is only the first of the trials the goddess has ordained for you."

Halisstra bowed, acknowledging her new mistress. At the same time, her mind whirled at the wonder of it all. She'd fled from Ched Nasad as a homeless refugee, hoping to find out if her goddess was alive or dead, only to have her hopes dashed against the black stone monolith that sealed Lolth's temple. But in the alien forests of the World Above, she'd found something entirely unexpected, a new home?and a new goddess. In gratitude, Halisstra knew she would serve Eilistraee faithfully from that night forward. Whatever the goddess asked of her, Halisstra would give it.

Rising from her bow, she glanced at Ryld, silently contemplating the warrior. Would he do the same? Or would coming up into Eilistraee's light prove too much for Ryld, too far at odds with the ways he had always known?

Only time would tell.

Chapter Twenty

Quenthel stared thoughtfully at Danifae's submissively bowed back. If the lesser priestess was to be believed, Pharaun was at last making his move. After endless petty insubordination, the infuriating male had finally worked up the courage to inflict the killing bite. Except that he didn't have the strength of will to kill Quenthel himself. Instead, he would let the aboleth do her in. That way, he could report back to the matron mother?honestly?that Quenthel had died at the hands of another, hostile race, in the pursuit of her quest.

A quest he obviously hoped to make his own, in order to steal what should rightfully be Quenthel's glory.

Quenthel stroked the sinuous bodies of her vipers, which shuddered softly as they shared her thoughts.

She must be telling the truth, Yngoth said, staring fixedly at the top of Danifae's lowered head. I can see no reason for her to make up such a story.

Nor can I, Quenthel thought back.

Danifae is your loyal servant. Mistress! said K'Sothra, squirming with delight.

Quenthel sighed and stroked the smaller viper's head. K'Sothra was pretty, but she wasn't very bright. She took everything at face value, completely missing the subtle nuances of deceit that usually lay just beneath the surface of so blatant a betrayal. But Quenthel thought that the naive snake might actually be correct. Danifae's motivation seemed clear as quartz crystal. The lesser priestess had everything to gain by betraying Pharaun's plans to Quenthel and nothing to lose. When Lolth reawakened, Danifae would no doubt attempt to claim a prominent place in Arach-Tinilith.

Quenthel shifted the whip to her left hand?smiling when Danifae flinched as the serpents passed over her head?and she curled the fingers of her right hand. She rested her fingertips lightly on Danifae's bowed head.

"You will be rewarded," she told the lesser priestess. "Now go. Return to Pharaun, before he suspects what you've been doing."

Danifae rose, smiling, and turned to leave the narrow cavern. Jeggred, who had been hunkered by the entrance the whole time, watching the tunnel beyond for signs of danger, flexed the claws of his fighting hands and glanced back over his shoulder at Quenthel. She gave a slight shake of her head, and Jeggred flattened against the wall to let Danifae pass.

"What about the mage?" the draegloth growled.

Quenthel saw that the hair on the back of his neck had risen. He'd listened carefully to everything Danifae said and was balanced on the knife edge of one of his rages. The slightest word from Quenthel would send him into violent motion back down the tunnel to where Pharaun sat by the waterfall, studying his spellbooks.

"I will deal with him myself," Quenthel told him. "Later."

Still growling softly, Jeggred settled back into a crouch, wrapping his smaller arms around his knees. Red eyes stared out into the tunnel, and slowly his hackles smoothed.